Powerless to Stop You
by ChangingLeads
Summary: Subjected to his master's cruel desires, Fenris is powerless to deny Danarius. Danarius/Fenris, slash, severe dub-con.


_Disclaimer : Sexy elf is sexy, but so not mine_

_A/N : Unbetaed, sorry for the mistakes. This is a work of fiction that contains very mature things, mainly some very dub-con sexual relations between a master and his slave. If this is not your cup of tea, please don't subject yourself to my writing. You have been forwarned_

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><p><strong>Powerless to Stop You<strong>

The last, lingering sunlight is beginning to dissipate in the stone corridors as Fenris makes his way to Danarius' study. Through the windows, the sun has just gone beyond the horizon and the sky is splashed with colour as though in a painting. A warm, yellow glow bathes the inside of the stone manor, but despite the lingering summer warmth, Fenris' bare feet are cold against the marbled flooring. The fear in his throat makes it difficult to swallow, and the pounding of his heart is loud in his own ears. Keeping his eyes downcast, the elf watches his feet as he walks, as the polished stones pass under his toes, taking him closer to his destination.

There's no need to knock once Fenris reaches his master's study. Danarius is expecting him and the door is slightly ajar. There's a flickering light shining through the doorway, spilling into the hallway; a torch inside the room, granting its occupant more lighting. Fenris pauses just outside the ray of light, then gathers his courage and pushes forwards.

Inside the study, Danarius is seated at an ornate wooden desk. His gaunt, bearded face is downcast as he studies the paper before him, and Fenris enters the study quietly as his master continues to read. The torchlight plays on the lines of his face, accentuating the creases by his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, and it's easy for the elf to read his master's irritation in his face. Instantly, he drops his eyes back to the ground, because if he's caught looking at the human he'll surely be punished. When Danarius doesn't immediately acknowledge him, Fenris stands inside the doorway and waits.

The quiet sound of a quill scratching against papers fills the silence. Fenris shifts his weight from foot to foot in fearful apprehension, and the tension mounts with each passing minute. The lyrium marking beneath his skin throb steadily, as they have ever since Fenris received them. It's a lingering pain his peripherals, and without anything to take his mind off of it, the ache seems intensified, and Fenris is acutely aware of each beat of his heart, pulsing through the marking. The silver pattern covers his body, coiling around his torso and spreading down his extremities, to the tips of his fingers and toes. It continues up his neck, painting his throat and drawing twin lines towards his mouth, and spirals upwards to the backs of his ears, and then continues, hidden into his hairline. The ache burrows deep, settling in his core, and Fenris focuses on the pain to take his mind off his fear.

At last, Danarius sighs and the wooden chair creaks as he straightens up. He shuffles the papers and slides them across the desk, away from his body, and Fenris' attention snaps to his master.

'Shut the door,' the magister commands, and Fenris pushes it shut behind him. The sound of the mechanism falling into place causes a tremor of panic, because now he's shut inside the room with his master, and his easiest way of escape is cut off. Not that he would ever flee, because there's no where to run to, and to try only ends painfully. Even as his mind rebels, his body submits, and when Danarius beckons him forward, the elf obeys with unthinking obedience.

Fenris stops once he's standing before the desk, keeping his eyes downcast.

'Come closer, my pet. I won't hurt you.'

It's a lie, and they both know it. But Fenris is his slave, and in no position to call his bluff. Feeling the panic reach a crescendo, the elf moves closer, until he's within arm's reach.

The hem of Danarius' brown robes have an intricate gold design sewn into them. Fenris watches as his master stands up and takes a step closer, and the heat from his body becomes tangible.

'Look at me,' the mage tells him, and Fenris stares at a point on the wall over Danarius' shoulder. He knows Danarius is studying him, and the human wraps one hand around his chin and draws his eyes to meet his master's gaze. Danarius smirks, and Fenris knows that he can see the fear in his slave's eyes.

Although Danarius is not a large man, he's still substantially bigger then the slender elf, and Fenris trembles as the pain in his markings grows more intense where Denarius is touching him. Left alone, they ache constantly, but the pain grows unbearable when they're touched. It's a side effect that pleases his cruel master, who likes to see the strong elf break under pain, and his fingers tighten fractionally for a moment, watching the tension grow in the elf's face until Fenris gives a stuttered intake of breath as the pain begins to radiate outwards, tingling in his lips and seeping down his bared throat.

'My unruly little wolf,' Danarius teases him. 'Have you no self restraint?'

'No, master,' Fenris murmurs in reply, even though he knows he's condemning himself with those words. But to simply ignore the question is not an option, and to lie would only result in further punishment.

Having received his desired result, Danarius drops his hand, and immediately the pain diminishes considerably.

'Unrobe me, Fenris,' Danarius orders, and Fenris reaches for the clasps on his silken robe with shaking fingers.

Danarius remains still as Fenris undoes the ties holding the robe closed, and then shrugs the garment free of his shoulders and lays it over the wooden surface of the desk. Knowing how to proceed, Fenris kneels down to work on the laces of his master's boots, studiously ignoring the human's nakedness. He removes one boot, and then the other, and places them aside, then regains his footing and waits for further instruction.

Fenris is clad in only a light pair of leggings and a thin, cotton shirt. Danarius takes the hem of his shirt in between the thumb and forefinger of one hand and tugs at it in indication, and Fenris sheds the garment, dropping it onto the floor. His hands hesitate at the hem of his leggings, then removes them as well at his master's bidding.

Naked and vulnerable, Fenris trembles. Danarius raises both hands and grasps his slave's face in two large palms, and then tips his head upwards.

'Don't worry, pretty. This won't hurt,' he lies, and then presses his mouth flush against his slave's. Fenris gasps as pain explodes from his hands, and the magical electricity that pours from Danarius' fingertips causes him to sag against his master, too weak to stand. Danarius kisses him with feigned tenderness, and his mouth is gentle, even as his magic inflicts further agony of the naked elf. Fenris shakes, his hands grab blindly at the mage's arms to keep himself from falling to the floor, and the ache in his temples reaches new heights, blinding him as white pain lances through his head.

Danarius moves his mouth away and halts the spell that sends an electric current through the elf, and with only his touch to generate pain, the intensity fades to a more bearable level. As cognizance returns, Fenris becomes aware of his master's arousal, heated flesh pressing insistently against his body. His pain has always been a constant source of pleasure for his sadistic master.

Danarius arms slide down Fenris's body, stroking his shoulders, the sides of his ribs, and then finally settling on the elf's slender hips, igniting fresh pain on untouched skin. He steps backwards, drawing his slave with him, and then seats himself back in the wooden chair and guides Fenris forward, pulling him into his master's lap and guiding his legs apart to straddle the human's thighs. Powerless to disobey, Fenris complies without protest, even though something inside him threatens to break with each moment that passes.

'My little wolf,' Danarius croons, 'let me see how you touch yourself.'

Face red with shame, Fenris uses his own hands to attempt to stimulate his flaccid organ. The backs of his thighs burns where they touches Danarius' skin, an insistent throb that threatens to impede his performance, and then Danarius' rests both palms against his flat abdomen, fingers splayed, and Fenris' hand falters. He gasps, eyes rolling back in his head, and then a soothing coolness begins in Danarius' hands and seeps outwards. The magic moves through his body, keeping the pain at bay, and Fenris curses silently because he preferred the agony to his master's loathsome touch.

Danarius keeps on hand on the elf's stomach, feeling the muscles move beneath his skin, clenching as his breath falters, and trembling with panic. His second hand slips lower, detouring around his groin where the elf's own hand is stroking his unresponsive length, and he spreads his legs, pulling his slave's thighs farther apart in the process and leaving enough room for his hand to delve lower, moving back to stroke teasingly at Fenris' entrance with one fingertip.

Fenris closes his eyes in humiliation. The magic that settles below his skin, keeping the pain at bay, warms and begins move lower, to concentrate between his legs. Heat pools in his groin and blood rushes to the spot, and Fenris can feel his own flesh respond, hardening treacherously in his hand. Danarius' fingertip pushes and slides smoothly inward, and he laughs, shaming the broken elf further.

'You've been good, my pet. Keeping yourself oiled, as I requested?'

'Yes, master,' Fenris grits out, jaw clenched. As degrading as it was to prepare himself in such a way, knowing this very encounter was unavoidable, it's impossible for Fenris to deny Danarius anything, and it's not worth even contemplating disobeying his master's request.

Danarius inserts another finger, delving deeper into the elf's pliant body, and his fingers curl searchingly. With ease born of hours of practice, Danarius locates a bundle of nerves hidden inside his slave's body, and he massages it. Fenris gasps and his hips jerk once, uncontrollably, and then Danarius removes his hand from Fenris' stomach and uses it to guide the elf's own hand away from his weeping erection. Wrist caught in his master's grip, Fenris' fingers flex uselessly as Danarius continues to stimulate him, goading him into greater heights of arousal. In all truthfulness, Fenris is strong enough to break free, even to break every bone in Danarius' body. His hands hold a surprising amount of strength, enough to wield a large, cumbersome blade nearly as long as he is tall with unrivaled grace and ease, and it pleases Danarius to have such unquestioning control over his slave.

'Look at me,' the mage commands, and Fenris obeys instinctively, blindly obedient. His silver hair clings to his clammy forehead and he peers at his master with wide, olive green eyes. There's nothing he can hide now, not his shame or his despair or the desire inflicted on his body. Danarius leans forwards to kiss him once more, and his kind façade falters in the face of his power. His mouth is strong and possessive and he bites cruelly at Fenris' slack lower lip, and then he breaks the kiss and shoves Fenris off his lap so the elf sprawls gracelessly on the floor at his feet. At the loss of contact, his spells break, and Fenris is left gasping and shuddering at the echo of the pain and his own, very real, arousal.

'Get up.' Danarius orders, and even his tone has become harder. 'Bend over the desk.'

Shaking from the stimulation, Fenris grabs the edge of the desk and uses the handhold to pull himself to his feet. Before he can fully comply, Danarius has one hand on the base of his neck, pushing down, forcing his face into his master's discarded robe. Fenris' knees buckle, sapped of any strength, and his weight rests on his stomach and chest. The human kicks his legs apart and his own hairy thighs insert themselves into the space, and then he grabs his own arousal in one hand and guides it to his slave's well lubricated entrance.

Fenris keens as his master enters him brutally in one forceful thrust. He gasps, and Danarius' scent fills his nostrils. He wants to cry, but there's no more tears in him for this kind of abuse, and without the magic to keep the pain at bay, the forceful slap of Danarius' thighs on the back of his legs creates a torrent of agony, angry flames burning deep into his muscles and echoing in his bones.

Lost somewhere in the pain, hardly registering conscious thought, Fenris lies limp, taking the abuse without protest. Occasionally he cries out and sometimes his body shudders violently, and when Danarius removes the hand from his neck and reaches down between his slaves legs to fondle his flagging erection, the arousal provides further pain. His groin throbs angrily, but responds anyway in the manner he's been conditioned to, and Fenris' hands grab desperately at the desk top, seeking purchase and sending papers flying onto the ground. Danarius curses at him, but the words are lost to the white noise filling the elf's ears. He sobs shamelessly, begging for Danarius to finish with him, and the hand on his erection jerks faster, forcing orgasm on the elf. His seed spurts out, onto the floor, and Danarius growls as the shuddering of his slave's body drives him over the edge.

To Fenris, it feels as though he passes out. The pain reaches such a pinnacle that he's unable to consciously register it anymore, and his body slumps, boneless, on the desk. He pants, shaking from head to toe, and then Danarius pulls out and slouches backwards into his chair where he recovers from his own orgasm.

With the painful stimulation gone, Fenris begins to regain cognizance. The smell of Danarius fills his nose, tangible enough to taste on his tongue, and he becomes aware that he's shivering as sweat cools on his back.

'You've made a mess,' Danarius sneers, and Fenris knows what's expected of him. Forcing some strength back into his limbs, he manages to push himself off the desk to kneel on the stone floor. Bending over to rest his elbows on the polished marble, Fenris cleans the sticky strands of semen from the ground with long, slow swipes of his tongue. Danarius watches smugly, and he even raises one foot to rest it on Fenris' shoulder blades, keeping him down even after his task is complete. Exhausted and numb to the pain caused by Danarius' loathsome touch, Fenris rests his forehead against the marble and waits.

After a time that feels like it spans an eternity, Fenris can hear someone at the door to the study. There's a gentle knock, and without moving, Danarius tells them to enter. Shameless in his nudity, he reclines in his desk chair, and there's a moment of quiet when the visitor enters and Fenris can feel his chest flush with mortification.

'I've brought you a text you may be interested in reading,' Hadrianna tells Danarius.

'Thank you,' the magister tells his apprentice. She approaches the desk, her silk slippers whispering on the polished tiles, and Fenris can feels her eyes on him, witnessing his degradation.

'He looks good, groveling on his stomach,' Hadrianna sneers, and Danarius laughs.

'He serves his purpose,' he tells the woman. Hadrianna gives a small, mocking snort, and then turns away. The door closes behind her, and only then does Danarius remove his foot from Fenris' back, allowing the broken slave to rise.

'Dress me,' Danarius orders, and Fenris reaches for his master's boots. His knees are beginning to cramp from kneeling on the stone floor, but Fenris is used to being in pain, and he slips first one boot, and then the other, onto the human's bare feet and ties the laces with numb fingers. He then tries to stand up, and he stumbles gracelessly before finding his balance.

'Clumsy little wolf,' Danarius scolds him, standing as well so Fenris can put his robe back on. His voice has adopted its friendly, mocking tone again, and Fenris hates that even more then the outright cruelty.

Once he's finished Fenris takes a step back and waits to be dismissed. He wants to return back to his cell, to the safety of his isolation. Hadrianna will be by soon to feed the slaves, and doubtless she'll ridicule Fenris for the scene she witnessed, but after that he'll be alone with his self loathing, safe until morning from his cruel master's wicked torment.

'Aren't you forgetting something, Fenris?' Danarius asks, and his voice is low in warning. Suppressing a sigh, Fenris looks up to meet his master's gaze.

'Thank you, master,' he says.

'Thank you for what?'

'Thank you for… touching me… and… for using me.' Fenris' voice grows softer.

'You're welcome.' Danarius nods once, curtly, and then gestures to the door. 'You can go now.'

Fenris takes an uneasy step towards the exit on legs that threaten to give out on him, and then another, and he half expects to find his way barred by a magical barrier out of cruel jest. He makes it to the door unscathed, however, and nearly stumbles out in his hurry to depart. The sound of Danarius' mocking laughter follows him into the hallway, and the lyrium markings on his skin burn hotly, illuminating the darkness as he makes his way through the silent manor.

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><p><em>(Positive) feedback is 3. Flamers will be sacrificed to Hadrianna.<br>_


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